Prisoner
by Dipi
Summary: This story is basically a series of drabbles. Mostly sad. Some with hopeful ending, though.
1. Prisoner of Hope

**A/N: Hello everyone. Before we start, these are going to be drabbles. Independent stories. If i get some motivation, i might take one of them and start a story as well. Anyway, you are welcome for critique as well as ideas and prompts. **

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**Prisoner of Hope**

Ron stared at the chains … silver large hoops linked together … heavy … and painful.

Even though the chains reminded him of pain only, he couldn't help but stare at them. Well, there was nothing other than that to stare at. The walls, roof and floor were all white; so much so that you wouldn't know where one ended to join other. In any case he never had the freedom to walk the room.

Because he was a prisoner.

They had always been at the forefront of the war; Harry, Ron and Hermione that is. From a very young age at that. Harry the General and Ron and Hermione his colonels.

Ron smiled.

How often had he heard that analogy!

So, when the war started in earnest, it was obvious that the Golden Trio would be at the forefront again. Harry leading with bravery, Ron with strategy and Hermione with intelligence.

Just like the last time, there was a traitor this time as well. Dean … Ron's soldier.

Ron looked upwards. He didn't know how long had he been here; he couldn't count the number of times he had been tortured; he had forgotten to feel the pain because that was only what there was. He had made himself numb … to the rapes – mental and physical.

After all he was a prisoner.

Ron smiled.

It was Ron's strategy that they all split up and prepare their troops. That way if one was captured others were safe. To know whether others were alive or not in case of capture, Hermione had come up with an idea. Tattoos. Ron had one each behind his ears, so small one would dismiss them as moles. One for Hermione and one for Harry. They were alive.

Yes, he was a prisoner.

But not of these chains. Not of these bars. Not of these Death Eaters.

Of Hope. He always had been. The most optimistic of the trio. Harry and Hermione had always had a realistic and practical viewpoint. He was the daydreamer, optimistic day dreamer.

He rubbed the miniscule tattoos behind his ears. Harry and Hermione were alive. They would continue the war; they would not let these devils live for long; they would provide the bright future he had always dreamed of.

They would bring back the smiles … the long forgotten smiles.

Ron smiled.

Harry and Hermione will erect the house once called Burrow. They will build the family that was lost in the war. Wild brown haired kids with green eyes. Lush green garden and knowing Hermione, it will have no gnome, of course. Knowing Harry, it will definitely have a Quidditch pitch. And the house? It will smell of coffee, love and warmth.

Prisoner.

Ron sighed. He knew it was time now. He had protected his mind for quite long. But not too long.

Ron rubbed the tattoos again. They will get the signal. He scratched them muttering an incantation. He was surrounded in a bright blinding light. He kept muttering the incantation. Soon, the light vanished.

Ron smiled.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were standing before the gate of Hogwarts, hand in hand.

Smiling, they opened the gate.

Laughing, they raced inside.

The light came back, flashed once and vanished again.

Ron smiled … one last time. Yes, he was Prisoner. Prisoner of Hope. And his hopes will come true … soon.

Ron slumped to the floor, smile frozen on his face.


	2. Prisoner of Solitude

**A/N: I don't know whether this would make much sense, but i just went with the flow and this was the result. I hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it.  
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Prisoner of Solitude**

Hogsmeade was full of Hogwarts' students on weekends, noisy and crowded. He preferred Hogwarts and its silence but his absence from Hogsmeade would be noticed and questioned. That meant further intrusion in to his silence and solitude.

Draco shook his head as he noticed the Golden Trio head out of Hog's Head; he knew what would be next. As expected Crabbe and Goyle noticed them too and decided to have little fun. And as expected, Draco led them after the Golden Trio.

A long time back, Draco had learnt a very useful technique for survival. He knew what he was and what he wanted in life. He also knew that side could never be revealed to anyone, not even his parents. So, that side lived bottled up inside of Draco's other side, the side preferred by everyone around him. His inner side which preferred solitude, silence and peace was safe within his cruel exterior. It was like having two personalities, at the same time.

He observed himself passing rude and cruel comments on Granger, Weasley and Potter. He was still at peace with him because he knew he meant no harm and that his sidekicks will leave him alone after this fun.

As expected they did, leaving Draco alone with himself and his thoughts.

In his solitude, Draco had thought of a life free of the servitude his father had brought upon him. A life where he can roam wherever he wanted, talk to whomever he liked, enjoy the company of intelligent people rather than the bullies he had now. In that life, he wouldn't have to think of his duties and obligations to his parents and Lord Voldemort.

Draco smiled as he made his way to Hogwarts. How lovely that life would be? And peaceful.

* * *

Year after year, Draco saw relationship among Ron, Hermione and Harry grow stronger. Their friendship was way beyond the usual ones. Despite known for their aloofness, Draco knew many Slytherins craved for similar friendship, similar trust, and similar love. Hell, everyone in Hogwarts wanted that kind of friendship.

Draco could safely say he wasn't jealous. He never was jealous of any relationship for that matter. He was happy with his solitude and rather enjoyed it. Yes, the Golden Trio's relationship was all well and good, but he didn't want any part of it. He was surrounded by his cronies for anything he needed and had himself for sharing thoughts he couldn't with anyone else. What did he need anyone else for?

* * *

Draco swept his arm across the table and brought the contents of his table on the ground, shattering inkpots, scattering parchments and blunting quills.

His life had changed tonight. He had done everything so far to maintain that solitude, that peace within. He had done all that was expected of him so that they would leave him alone. He had killed Dumbledore so that Voldemort would spare his parents' lives. He had thought by doing this he would be free of his obligations towards his parents and he would be free.

He wasn't prepared for Voldemort's praise or promotion through his ranks. He was to be more actively involved in his plans.

Neither was he prepared for the torrent of emotions that followed the murder. He couldn't find his solitude, his peace. He was restless and nothing was helping him – neither his daydreams, nor his imaginations.

For the first time in his life, Draco wanted to talk to someone.

For the first time in his life, he understood why people rambled.

For the first time in his life, he realised the importance of friendship like that of Golden Trio's.

He wanted to shout and scream… and he couldn't.

He had become a prisoner of his own solitude. The same solitude that hadn't let him make relationships, friendships, the same solitude that hadn't let him open to other individuals, the same solitude which had provided him peace.

So, he endured.

* * *

Draco looked around. Again. And again. Was all this madness really over? Was Voldemort really dead? Could he finally be alone and peaceful?

Draco started walking. Perhaps, someone in Hogwarts would tell him. All around him the grounds were dead bodies only. And they weren't likely to tell him anything ever. He stumbled on someone. Looking down, he identified the body as Creevy Colin's. He was still breathing; he had a deep gash across his chest. By the time help would arrive, he would be dead.

Draco raised his wand and Colin instinctively flinched. Who wouldn't? Draco was a Death-Eater after all. Calmly, Draco muttered a charm that would seal the skin, thereby stopping the blood flow and ease his pain. He would still need help, but Colin wouldn't die. The moment he was done, Draco continued his walk, never glancing back to see Colin's shocked look.

Yes, it was true. Voldemort had been defeated. Draco sighed with relief and slumped against a pillar near the Great Hall. He would be free finally. He had done all that that lunatic wanted, his parents wanted. But now, he will be able to be alone with his thoughts. He would be able to reclaim his solitude and his peace.

He smiled and closed his eyes.

* * *

Colin was hurrying across the corridor. It was not a particularly good place. Even though the wizarding world was being reformed under the guidance of Kingsley, Dementors hadn't left Azkaban.

Colin shuddered from the cold. It had taken longer than he thought for him to recover. The wound in his chest had healed faster, but the one in his leg hadn't, immobilising him for months. He had heard and read all he could about the happenings of the wizarding world – the trials, the reforms and the ceremonies.

Though he wasn't shocked to read about Draco, it had saddened him. Draco had received lifetime imprisonment in Azkaban. His only saving grace had been that there was no evidence of him ever killing anyone. Colin was surprised to feel that emotion for Draco Malfoy. But then he had witnessed one emotion on Draco's face no one else had – relief, peace and joy. Not even Harry could have been as much relieved.

Colin had become restless after reading about Draco. He had this uncontrollable urge to go see Draco in Azkaban. It was strange but it had to be done. That's why the moment he was out of the hospital, he had sought permission to visit Draco in Azkaban. Everyone had been surprised, but it didn't matter for Colin.

He heard screams from prisoners as he paced towards his destination. They said Azkaban could make anyone mad and Colin understood why. All he could think of was bad memories of his life. They were bound to make anyone mad.

Finally, Colin reached the cell of Draco Malfoy. The guard moved forward and unlocked the door and stepped back.

"He is the strangest prisoner I have ever had here in Azkaban. Be careful," the guard whispered before leaving Coling alone.

Gathering all his courage, Colin moved forward and peered in the cell. Whatever it was, this was not what he had expected.

The cell was cold and grimy. It seemed it couldn't be cleaned further. There was a platform which worked as bed for the prisoner. On it there was mattress, sheet and blanket for the inhabitant. They looked good but not cosy. On the platform was seated Draco, cross-legged, eyes closed and leant back to the wall.

There was a strange calm radiating from Draco. He didn't seem affected by Dementors or Azkaban. Suddenly, Colin found himself full of hope and warmth. Draco looked pure and peaceful. It seemed a sacrilege to disturb him, so Colin turned to leave.

"Colin?" Draco's voice stopped him. Slowly he turned to face his saviour. Draco was surprised. Never before was his face as open as now.

"Hello," Colin said shyly. "How are you doing?" What a stupid question to ask!

Draco smiled. And Colin was mesmerised by it. "I'm fine. And you?"

"Good. I just—I just wanted to thank you—you know for saving me back there in the battle."

"That's okay."

Colin found himself at loss of words. Draco was not trying to make any conversation. What do you talk to someone you thought of as your enemy for six years?

* * *

Draco observed the boy standing before him. Colin looked uncomfortable. Perhaps he wanted to talk, but Draco was done talking. Draco thought of asking him questions – about life beyond Azkaban, the new wizarding world, the Golden Trio… Neither it mattered, nor could he.

He was peaceful where he was. There was no one here to disturb him. He had finally found his solitude, his harmony.

He had finally found his world –where there was only whiteness around, no red and green, where he was all alone and no one around, where there was no obligation, duty or necessity, where there was serenity.

Draco offered one more smile to Colin before he closed his eyes. Perhaps, the guards were right. Perhaps, he had gone mad. Perhaps, Azkaban had affected him.

All he knew was he was not a prisoner of Azkaban, Dementors or Guard. He was a prisoner but of solitude, his solitude. And he was enjoying it.


End file.
